


Bighorner Dundee

by oloros



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Cowboy slang, Fluff, Gen, Wrangling a bighorner, just giving Victor some love really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oloros/pseuds/oloros
Summary: Victor and Rathaus wrangle an escaped bighorner.
Relationships: Courier & Victor, Female Courier & Victor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Bighorner Dundee

“You look a might lost there, friend.”

The pale dirt crackled under the grip of his wheel, loud enough to echo a short distance off the mountain walls. Rathaus had heard him long before he’d spoken, though didn’t turn her head until a black box loomed over her shoulders. Victor was one of the few things in the town that brought her solace. Whether it was because he couldn’t pry into the details of her implants or the jovial cowboy character that floated on his monitor, she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe she felt she owed him something – he’d saved her life, after all – and it would be rude of her to avoid him with a debt unpaid.

“Always,” she replied, patting the ground next to her. She was sat on a ridge overlooking the town. Water wells burbled softly behind and wind gently prodded tumbleweeds along the floor. Ahead was a clear view of a small corral consisting of a disgruntled looking settler and two burly bighorners, nosing at their troughs and kicking up the dirt. Victor rolled up beside her, a rubber digit brushing against her index finger.

“You thinkin’ of becomin’ a farmer, miss?” he asked. His voice rose a pitch and he followed his words with a short, warm chuckle; far warmer than any robot had a right to produce.

Rathaus pulled her hand away, curling her fingers over the top of her knee. “I think I’d scare the animals. Or the other farmers.” she said, flexing the sturdy white fingers of her robotic hand. “Don’t you think?”

Victor tipped the slightest bit diagonally, monitor facing her. The comical caricature of a Western cowboy leered her way, circular eyes unblinking and cigarette never to see the end of a lighter. “Nah – you’re not that scary. ‘Least not scarier than anyone else ‘round these parts.”

“Thanks… I think.” Rathaus bit back a sigh and combed the curled strands of white hair framing her jaw. Her eyes had never left the corral, of which the settler had started attempting to comb the mat out of one of the beast’s flanks. “But I’ve got no time to farm, even if I wanted to.”

“Ah, right.” Victor righted himself, faint glow pointed back down the ridge. “You’ve got someone to find, don’tcha?”

And find him she would. Even if it meant to trek across the whole width of the Mojave and turn up with another bullet to the head, at least she could comfortably say she’d _done_ something with her situation. Followed her heart, in a twisted way, like the propaganda the NCR soldiers with the too-big goggles would spout while they patrolled the borders of their outposts.

“Hm… You see that?”

Victor’s voice wrested her back into the land of the living. Her mechanical eye clicked to zoom – a habit she wasn’t sure _how_ she’d managed to pick up – allowing her a closer view of the corral’s contents. The groomed bighorner’s temper had flared, bucking around and causing dust to float and whorl over the tops of the fences. The gate was promptly kicked open, an unrelenting hoof dislodging the lock, and its smaller friend took the chance to run. The settler hadn’t noticed, calling out for help to calm the irritated animal.

“Looks like it’s headin’ this way,” Victor said, extending a prong to track the escaped bighorner. The smile in his voice was clear and natural, like he’d walked right out of one of the pre-war comics you’d find in the ruins. “Fancy a li’l rodeo, partner?”

Rathaus followed its route with her eyes. If it stuck south it would end up behind them, back to the wells, and any animal would take the opportunity of a fresh gulp of water. Even so, she wasn’t keen to get close to such a large, unpredictable animal, knowing how dangerous they could be and seeing a clear-cut example through the settler’s struggles in the corral. Victor must’ve sensed her hesitance, poking her in the shoulder and adding, “I’ll be right there with you.”

“Alright,” she said, mostly in whisper, as she pushed herself up from the ground and turned back to the slope of the ridge. The nearest well sat comfortably within the paths the rocks formed, barely a short walk away. With Victor trailing behind her she felt well-equipped for any violence, even if the thought of him gunning down an animal felt unrealistic. Him gunning down _anything_ was a hair away from fanatical. He had to be the most passive robot she’d ever met. Then again, her only other experience was a protectron with a thinned wire and too much love in its heart for violence.

As expected the bighorner had beelined to the well, greedily taking in the water it provided. Their troughs was filled regularly though they tended to get the sloppy seconds in terms of quality. Trudy had been mumbling about droughts and having to ration.

Rathaus crouched a distance away. It could probably smell her, but it didn’t show any signs of rushing away yet. Victor whirred behind her and she turned her head to ask, “What do you think we should do?”

“Keep it around the well,” Victor said. “They’ll come lookin’ for it soon enough. Wobble your jaw a bit – tell it a story!”

She gave him an incredulous look. “It doesn’t even understand English!”

“Neither do those birds you keep talkin’ to, but that doesn’t seem to stop you.” She could _feel_ the taunt in his voice, lighthearted as it was, and her cheek flushed like a paled cherry. Crows tended to hang around the Goodsprings houses, scouring out their next meal in the form of a scrap or enjoying the shade the house’s overhangs provided. They were quiet, usually, and made perfect listeners. Rathaus poured out her thoughts to them like they were feathery journals. It never occurred to her someone might listen in.

She crept towards it, metal fingers twitching at her hip. Its head rose from the well’s trough and turned sharply to the side, one beady eye looking over her, examining her intentions. Bighorners were stubborn, domestic ones only slightly less, and Rathaus felt she’d entered a staring competition. She was barely a meter away and stopped in her tracks. Softly, she clicked her tongue, hoping to coax the beast towards her. Its nostrils flared against its gritty snout and it stirred another dirt cloud with its hefty back leg.

Victor remained a safe distance behind them, cocked to the side like a curious dog. Like he wasn’t _really_ sure what would happen, he’d just _seemed_ confident.

“Hey… Buddy.” She planted her foot forwards. Her toes dipped deep into the dirt and sent some small rocks scattering across the ground. The bighorner lumbered sideways, facing her, pointed ears flicking up from above its temples in response to the noise. Then, it bolted.

Rathaus cursed and took after it like lightning. She could hear Victor rushing behind, small rocks cracking beneath his path, parts clunking along with each powered push. The bighorner left a cloud in its wake that snaked into her eye, drawing out water in droves. Her robotic eye took the brunt of the work to track its movement, even as she coughed and spluttered and desperately tried to wave the offending particles away. They were past the second well now, headed towards the highway leading to Primm. She hadn’t been this far out since being shot in the head. Twice.

Her velocity picked up. The wind ripped by her ear, the heat wetting the distance began to dry and soon she was coming up on the animal’s flank. She bowed out, hoping to avoid a nasty kick, drifting up to its shoulder and swinging back in to attach herself to the wiry tufts of fur on its thick neck. The bighorner bleated and strafed aside, dragging her along with it. Her heels scraped along the ground and she grit her teeth.

 _Ping.  
_  
Red beams dug into the dirt around them, arching around and turning the bighorner back towards Goodsprings. Victor was a distance away with one end of his arm a dome sporting an open muzzle. She couldn’t help the grin that marked itself on her as she was carried straight past him. He was _herding_ , just like the farmers she’d seen darting around, frantically trying to reign in their herd. It was a mystery why they hadn’t exploited Victor’s uses yet.

“Incoming!” she yelled as they ploughed past the Prospector Saloon. The signs tapped against their wooden holders from the force the animal exuded. The settler by the corral rushed to open the gate in time as it tore up the ground. Rathaus’ grip on its fur was beginning to falter and her feet were becoming sore in their boots. She closed her eyes, kept her muscles relaxed and let go, allowing her to tilt backwards and fall onto the road below. She skidded a small distance before stopping, rolling onto her elbows and taking a minute to absorb the weight of the impact.

“I ‘spose that’s _one_ way of gettin’ it done.”

Two rubber fingers hooked under her armpits and pulled her to her feet, brushing tenderly along her ribcage before they returned to their owner. She gladly took the support Victor offered, leaning against him.

“I take it back,” she rasped. “I’m _never_ becoming a farmer.”

Victor pushed against her back, directing her up the road towards Doc Mitchell’s house. “Nah… You strike me more as the mercenary type. Got a certain _fire_ about you.”

“Mercenary, huh?” Her brows knit and she found her fingers lingering at her hip for the ghost of a holster. “Maybe you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find information on Rathaus on my Tumblr - @ghoulja  
> Victor's a good boy.


End file.
